


a life never lived

by Knightblazer



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Lotus Eater Machine, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblazer/pseuds/Knightblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hulk can smash almost everything, but there are some things even it cannot smash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a life never lived

**Author's Note:**

> So I made [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/16524.html?thread=36627340#t36627340) on avengerkink some time ago and nobody filled it, and today I managed to kick myself into writing something for it. Admittedly it could be done better, but I'm way too tired at this point to there you go. Unbeta'd, so apologies for any and all errors that arise. 
> 
> Also I wanted to put in sciencebros properly, but that didn't manage to happen so I hope this is an acceptable compromise. That said, I hope you enjoy the fic!

  


Is this just an illusion—  
That I made inside my head to get me by?

— _America_ , Imagine Dragons

 

It’s been three days since everything and Bruce still hasn’t come out of his room.

Logically, Tony knows that it’s nothing to be worried about—after all considering circumstances it would be a miracle if that actually happened. He only knows the details, really (and he would be pissed about that usually, but the only thing anybody besides Bruce knows is the details so he can’t exactly be mad) but the details alone are enough to make him worry.

A part of him wants to knock down the door to Bruce’s room and get the answers that he wants, but Tony knows better than to do that—at least this time. He’s not the only one worried; Rogers and Barton and Romanoff are all concerned as well, but at least they do it better than he does. Kind of, anyway. Not that it really matters since it isn’t as if Bruce can actually see it anyway. Not with how he’s locked himself up.

The best thing he can do right now is to get JARVIS to keep an eye on Bruce as he tries to go on with his daily life, all while ignoring just how silent and empty the lab seems to be.

* * *

Bruce slowly roses to the feeling of a tongue lapping at his fingers. He frowns, making an annoyed groan as he tries to blindly wave off the culprit. It succeeds for a little while, but then there’s a wet nose pressing against his palm, and the mattress proceeds to dip with newfound weight before Bruce finds himself waking up wholly to a faceful of dog.

“Argh, _Marie_ —” He grumbles, swatting the corgi off him. Marie quickly jumps out of the way and back onto the floor, scampering around in a few circles before she stops to paw at Bruce’s legs and bark at him excitedly once he’s actually out of bed. Bruce attempts to ignore it, but gives up about five steps to the bathroom and squats down to face his dog.

Marie barks a few more times and practically jumps over to her owner, tail wagging frantically as Bruce gives in with a sigh and scratches the back of her neck. “Somebody seems happy today,” he remarks with low amusement. Bruce supposes he can’t blame her for all that energy—he’s excited too, after all, especially now that the date’s come back to him.

As if having realized that herself, Marie starts wriggling impatiently soon enough, eager to get out of her owner’s grip and Bruce lets the corgi go, watching fondly as Marie heads out of his room and barks in the general direction of the kitchen. The smell of bacon wafts over to him now that Marie is gone, and Bruce lets himself be led, coming out of the room and walks to the kitchen, smiling at the sight that greets him when he steps in.

“Somebody’s a late sleeper today, I see,” Betty remarks with a grin as she raises her gaze from the breakfast she had just prepared for them. “No extra bacon for you.”

Bruce makes a face at that. “Now that’s just not fair. Who was the one who kept me up in the first place?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” The curve in Betty’s smile says otherwise though, and Bruce can’t help but grin back in return as he steps forward and presses a kiss against that smile.

“Cheater,” he murmurs fondly once he’s pulled away.

“Learned from the best,” comes the reply from Betty as she pecks him on the forehead and grabs the clean plate beside him on the counter. “Don’t think you can skip out on the dishes because of that, though.”

* * *

Good news: Bruce has started to step out of his room.

Bed news: He’s only done it once and that was because the pantry in his room ran out.

It’s been a week now since then and things have hardly improved, really. Bruce still stays in his room and doesn’t talk to anybody—not even JARVIS, as Tony has found out. Apparently all that he does is to eat, sleep, meditate and read. How he does that and doesn’t get bored Tony will never find out, but that’s not really the issue here. The issue is that Bruce is just… forcing himself through each day. It’s a phase Tony knows well, having been through it himself. Of course, he does it with a bit more flair… but again, not the point.

He’s been bugging SHIELD for their report on what had happened and the fact that it’s taking so long for said report that it’s seriously irritating him. Like, really, what kind of intelligence organization takes so fucking long to compile a report when they already have everything? Tony almost had half a mind to storm into their HQ and demand answers for Fury if it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t want to leave Bruce alone. Not even for a second—with the way he is now, Tony doesn’t want to risk it. JARVIS could monitor him, sure, but the AI could only do so much; its times like these where Tony can’t help but be annoyed by his own incredible lack of foresight.

So instead he bugs Rogers and Barton and Romanoff (even though he still finds her terrifying) for them to go to SHIELD and demand out some answers. Rogers, of course, isn’t too pleased with how forceful Tony is being about this, but fuck if he cares what Captain America thinks. He needs to know what the fuck exactly happened to Bruce so that he can help his friend in the best way possible.

It’s that, or just watching him waste the days away and Tony doesn’t know if he can keep on seeing that any longer.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay with my dad coming?”

Bruce glances up from the list he’s writing. “It’s your day, Betty. I can tolerate him for one day.”

Betty bites on her bottom lip nervously for a moment. “It’s _our_ day, Bruce. I know you’re trying for me, but you both don’t exactly like each other. I just don’t want anything bad to happen, you know?”

“Yes, but we both know better than to spoil an occasion like this,” Bruce puts down his pen and reaches, clasping their right hands together. “Trust me, your father and I will be on our best behaviour for you.”

There’s still a flicker of uncertainty in Betty’s eyes, and Bruce attempts to soothe it out by brushing a thumb against her knuckles while he leans in to place a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry—he loves you, and I love you too, so we’ll try to be nice to each other at least for this special day.”

A small smile finally appears on Betty’s face and Bruce knows he’s managed to pacify her. “Wouldn’t want you to get angry at your own wedding, after all,” she replies, somewhat teasingly.

“You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry,” Bruce quips back, smiling wider at Betty’s stifled giggle in response. Betty’s laughter is the best thing in the world for him, really—everything else was just material. As long as she could always laugh like that, than that was the only thing he needed.

He lets go of Betty’s hand once her giggling dies down, and quirks a smile as she takes the list of names from his side of the table and spies on it. “Is this everyone you’re intending to invite?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“Johnson, David, Raymond…” Betty murmurs the names with a note of recognition, mostly because since they had been dating for over ten years and pretty much know each other’s friends by now. Bruce watches Betty for a moment before he notices a few specks of dust on his glasses and takes them off for a moment in order to wipe them off with his shirt.

“Bruce?”

“Hm?”

“Who’s Tony?”

Bruce’s head is up faster than he can think, and he frowns at Betty in confusion. “Who?”

“Just Tony,” she repeats herself, passing the list back over to Bruce. “It’s the last name you wrote.”

Bruce glances down the list and indeed, at the bottom of the list of names is just the name Tony. Just Tony, Tony and nothing else. 

_Tony who?_

Bruce looks back up to Betty’s questioning face. “Who’s Tony?” she asks again. “Is it somebody new from work?”

“I—” Bruce starts, not quite sure what to say, or if he should even say anything. He looks at the list once more, and then back up again, the expression on his face just as lost as he himself felt right now. “I don’t know.”

* * *

“Took me a while, but I finally got it,” Barton huffed as he dropped the file on the coffee table where the other Avengers (sans Thor, who was still in Asgard) were gathered around.

“Took you long enough,” Tony muttered darkly as he swiped the file and opened it, quickly scanning through the contents.

Romanoff’s voice was a dry as sandpaper as she answered in her partner’s stead. “It was classified, for some reason. Hidden even from us. It’s costing us our jobs to get this to you, I hope you realize.”

“You can work for me, SI is well-known for its excellent health care package,” Tony quickly dismissed it with a wave of his arm, eyes still locked onto the words in the folder. _Neural pathways… euphoria… endorphins… suppression…_

Wait, what?

Tony scans the contents one more time before he throws the file down and curls his lips in disgust. “You gotta be shitting me.”

Barton gives him a quizzical glance before he picks up the file and looks at it too, only taking a minute before a dark look crosses his face and he passes the folder over to Romanoff. “Bastards,” is the only remark that he makes. The same goes for Romanoff, who curses something quietly in Russian before giving the file to Rogers.

“I can see why SHIELD would want to keep this hidden,” Rogers says after spending the last ten minutes reading the file as well.

“Of course they would,” Tony all but spits out the words, each of them dripping with thinly-veiled disgust. “Last thing SHIELD needs is for people to know that the Hulk’s biggest weakness is Banner being pumped with some fucking euphoriants.”

* * *

The name continues to haunt Bruce for the next few days, even after all the invites are sent and they’re starting to prepare for the ceremony that’s to happen in a few days. To his credit Bruce does try to put it out of his mind by keeping himself busy, but whenever he has a moment to himself or just closes his eyes the name pops back into his head and Bruce would spend all night thinking about it.

Just who was this Tony? Bruce had never known a Tony all his life, so why did the name suddenly appear? None of it made sense at all.

The question continues to bother Bruce even during one of his few rare free times now, idly pats Marie who is dozing on his lap as he mulls over this whole mystery and wondering if he could find some explanation for it. Even though he said he didn’t know a Tony there was some small part of him that violently disagreed otherwise. That for some reason he _did_ know a Tony somewhere, and that he should remember it because it seemed every important.

_Tony who?_ Bruce puzzled over it as he reached over to pick up the newspaper lying on the couch next to the one he was sitting on, giving the cover a glance before he started to flip though it—

—and then flipped back to see the cover again, this time reading it thoroughly.

_Twenty years on,_ the words say, _Stane remembers Stark._

Stark.

He knows that, too, somehow. Bruce frowns and closes his eyes, grimacing as he feels a headache starting to work its way between his temples. Stark… Stark. He knows that. Stark—

Tony.

—Stark.

Tony Stark.

Bruce opens his eyes and instantly bolts up from his seat, completely ignoring the agitated bark from Marie as he runs to his room.

* * *

Another week has passed and still Bruce has barely made any progress in showing anybody his recovery—not that Tony can blame him now, especially after what he had read from that file. After what Bruce had to go through. 

Captured in Dubai and only found in Russia weeks later wholly drugged up and locked in. Tony had found it strange then that the drugs hadn’t so much as affected Bruce physically, but that had been brushed aside to focus on the fact that Bruce was alright. Or at least, that was what he had thought then. Thinking about it now, alright was most likely the furthest thing Bruce was from these days.

Tony does try to give Bruce his space, he really does, but there’s only so long he can do this waiting crap and it comes to a head when JARVIS informs him one night that Bruce was kicking and screaming in his sleep.

Tony doesn’t think twice about it—he instantly drops whatever he’s doing in the lab and snaps for JARVIS to let him in, now and the AI does so, opening the door to Bruce’s room. Tony stomps in, more than ready to snap out his frustrations at Bruce and say _goddamnit, Banner, why_ —but any words he wants to say instantly falls flat when he comes to the sight of Bruce curled into a ball on the bed, shoulders shaking as his breath hitches with uneven sobs.

There’s a long pause in where Tony finds himself lost on what to do or say next. Bruce is vulnerable in all the ways Tony doesn’t like to see, but he also knows that none of the other Avengers will ever really understand Bruce’s suffering the way Tony does. Outside they are different as night and day, but deep inside they’re still the same—two broken people who found something kindred in each other; like fragments of a shattered glass being placed together in a way that just might fit. And leaving Bruce like this is cruel, even for his standards.

So Tony slowly makes his way over to the bed and sits at the edge, raising one hand uncertainly and gives another look at Bruce before he carefully sets it on the small of Bruce’s back, rubbing gently. He thinks of what Jarvis (the Jarvis of old, before he became JARVIS) used to do for him and attempts to copy by humming the first tune that comes to his mind. AC/DC probably isn’t the best thing to hum, given the circumstances, but it’s not like Tony calls himself a man of appropriate moments.

Still, somehow, it works, and Bruce slowly but surely relaxes, the trembling easing off entirely. Tony can consider that a victory.

“…Banner?” he tries after a moment, stilling his hand.

Bruce doesn’t make a verbal reply, but he shifts slightly closer to where Tony is sitting, and that’s all Tony needs to know in response. He toes off his footwear and lies down on the bed with him, wriggling in close because there’s no such thing as a respectable distance with Tony Stark. He wraps himself around Bruce and rubs his back again, humming once more.

He’s almost certain he hears a barely audible ‘thank you’ somewhere in the shuddery sigh that Bruce lets out against him.

* * *

The world tells him that Tony Stark died in a car crash with his parents when he was fourteen, but Bruce knows that’s a lie because this entire world is a lie. A beautiful lie, really, but it’s a lie nevertheless and the reality of that breaks his heart. 

It all comes back rushing to him at once—the incident, the Hulk, Harlem, Calcutta, the Avengers and New York but most importantly _Tony_. Tony Stark who never died in a car crash at fourteen but lived on and on and on some more with a heart made of metal and powered by his own genius. A man so brilliant and amazing and yet terrifyingly fragile at the same time, a man whose genius he admired so much he strived to follow from when they were fourteen and Bruce saw him on a cover of a science magazine in his school library. Tony, the man who never saw Bruce as the Hulk but just Bruce, the man Bruce would do anything for because he was so foolishly in love with even though he knew he shouldn’t.

As he remembers everything the world comes to a complete stop around him and fades, leaving everything in white.

Everything, that is, except Betty, who’s standing before him now and looking so very sad.

“You could have been happy, Bruce,” she says, and her voice is filled with sorrow. Filled with regret. Filled with a million and one emotions Bruce has lived through again and again and again because those emotions are his and Betty is a thing of the past now. He gave her up after Harlem; he doesn’t deserve her anymore. Not after what he did.

Bruce swallows against the hard lump that’s suddenly formed in his throat and replies hoarsely. “I could have.” A life with Betty is something he’s always wanted, always longed for, always wished for. The simple dream of a house with a picket fence and a dog they would adopt from the shelter. They would wed and settle and spend the rest of their days simply enjoying each other’s company. That’s all he ever wanted, ever wished for.

But if that wish means losing Tony Stark forever, then that is a world Bruce cannot accept.

The sadness in Betty’s eyes grows a little more, and Bruce watches as she, too, begins to fade. “A lie can become a truth if you believe in it long enough.”

“It can,” he agrees, and then his voice drops to a whisper as the image of Betty fades away from him entirely. “But in the end it’ll still be a lie.”

* * *

Tony kind of regrets having kicked himself out of drinking as he gazes at the Manhattan skyline, lips pursed in annoyance. Fuck if one doesn’t sound good right about now. Maybe he should set up some kind of bartering system or something in the future—or not, since that will just mean he’ll find some way to abuse it and nobody was going to benefit from something like that.

Another few days has passed since that night and still not much progress from Bruce. Tony sighs and leans forward against the balcony, wondering if there was really anything he could do. There was only so much he could do to help, no matter what he tried, and it is irritating, how he is supposedly a genius but yet he’s stumped on something like this. But then again human relationships have never been his area of expertise.

Tony mulls over it some more along with some contingency plan when he hears footsteps behind him, and in irritation Tony doesn’t even bother to turn around as he quips. “Rogers, if you’re up here again to give me a lecture then I’m not interest—”

“I doubt I’m in any position to give you a lecture.”

Tony turns around as quickly as he can, eyes wide as he looks at the other man dumbly for a moment.

“I didn’t know I could surprise you into silence,” Bruce says, voice low and quiet, and then his expression turns apologetic as Bruce ducks his head. “Sorry.”

“No, I—” Tony starts and fumbles for a moment to try and find the right words to little success. “I mean, don’t worry about it.” He waves it off with a hand and then gestures to Bruce, giving him his best hopeful look. “Join me?”

Bruce inclines his head and carefully steps up beside Tony, fixing his gaze on the skyline and Tony can’t blame him, he supposes. He can see the sadness still showing in Bruce’s eyes, the pain still pouring out from every pore on his skin. The entire man just screams about his ache, and Tony wonders again just what he could do to try and fix that. He wants to help fix Bruce, if Bruce would ever let him. He’s accepted Tony’s touch that night, but that had been due to—circumstances. He isn’t sure if he’s crossing some boundary here now. 

Tony stops in his thoughts when Bruce lets out a slow sigh and rubs his hands together, voice still as quiet as before. “I’m sorry I worried you all.”

“Tell that to the others.” He doesn’t like Bruce apologizing to him, especially when it’s not his fault. It isn’t right.

Bruce opens his mouth at that, as if wanting to say something, but seems to think better of it and closes it as he returns his gaze back to the view outside. Tony stands beside him, shoulders almost touching.

The silence lasts for a full minute before Tony breaks it. “We should have found you sooner.”

“You did the best you all could,” Bruce instantly answers, and Tony purses his lips again so that he doesn’t say something stupid like _no it is our fault because I found you sooner you wouldn’t have to suffer this._ “Don’t blame yourself, Tony.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony tries to play it off but it’s impossible, honestly, not when he can still remember the way Bruce held onto him once they got the IV feeds off; the way he shook like a leaf, so pale and weak and fragile. Of how Bruce said nothing but his name all the way until they finally got him into a SHIELD medical facility, of the way he held onto Tony like a child who didn’t know what else to do. Tony doesn’t know if Bruce remembers but—Tony remembers. He’ll always remember, perhaps.

He looks down and stares at his hands for a moment. “We read the report. I mean, it was hidden but you were kind of catatonic so we kind of wanted to know what’s up so—” Tony stopped speaking when he saw the sad smile that appeared on Bruce’s face, the kind of smile that was so transparent and seemed to suck the light out from his eyes rather than show it.

“It makes sense,” Bruce says, and Tony doesn’t remember when he had heard Bruce speaking so softly. So timidly. “The other guy’s like an animal—it only knows pain and anger and rage. Things like happiness and contentment—that’s all me.”

Tony stays silent for a moment, trying to decide what he should say or do, or if he should actually say or do anything at all. It only lasts for a second before he does the mental equivalent of ‘fuck it’ and reaches for Bruce’s hand, a thumb brushing across his knuckles.

“What did you see?” he finally brings himself to ask.

Bruce turns his gaze back to the skyline, but he twists his hand around to lace his fingers with Tony’s and squeezes his hand gently.

“It was a dream,” he replies, and in his quiet voice is an answer tinged with sorrow and pain and of puzzle pieces that will never quite fit together. “Of a life never lived.”


End file.
